The Widower and his Daughter
by McGoogleRandom
Summary: William Murdoch is a happily married man and expecting father. But one fateful night, he loses one to gain another. Sad and alone he seeks comfort in the midwife down the street
1. Prolouge/Chapter 1

A quick AU. Completely different from the show

On September third, 1904, a woman stood on the front steps of her neighbors house. This was nothing unusual, except for the fact that it was close to midnight and instead of a polite knock, she rapped violently on the wood. She was moaning and pacing, her stomach swollen with child and her auburn hair damp from the rain. She wore nothing but her dressing gown and husbands coat.

She waited and paced and knocked until the door flew open and the tenant took her in. She asked the woman no questions, just guided her to the bedroom and instructed her to push. _"Get on your knees like you were praying and push that child out." _She instructed. She pushed and yelled and twisted, feeling herself grow weaker, until a tiny gurgling cry was heard. She sighed and turned around taking the tiny girl in her arms. Her breath was shallow and she knew what was coming, so kept her gaze on her child. She made sure the tenant promised her something before she closed her eyes, and kept them so.

She was twenty four.

I woke up to a cold bed and no wife. There was no sun for the clouds hadn't quite rolled away. Fearing something was wrong, I quickly dressed and headed out. A million thoughts raced through my head, trying to figure out where she went and why. My first instinct was to check the church, until I remembered that there was no mass this early on a Tuesday. I knocked on doors asking the same questions and receiving the same answers. No one had seen her.

She was indipendant, always was. She must've gone for a stroll I told myself. She would be home soon. With that thought I walked through my door and started the usual routine of breakfast. Crack four eggs, cut two slices of bread, set out the jam. Just as I finished setting the table I heard a knock on the door. I ran for it, expecting to see my wife and her glowing smile. Upon opening it, I came face to face with a stranger.

"Mr. Murdoch? I'm afraid we need to talk." The woman said. She was a short thing, not much higher than myself. She had deep green eyes and golden hair. Her voice was tinted with a faint foreign accent. I invented her in wordlessly, motioning for her to sit which she politely denied. There was something in her sentence that made me fear something was wrong. I said silent prayers and cleared my throat.

"How may I be of service?" I asked, looking her head on. She told me about my wife, how she died giving birth to my daughter, how she was sorry for my lose and asked if I wished to see her. I didn't respond immediately. I paced first. Around the living room into the dinning room and towards the kitchen. I couldn't process what was happening. I could feel tears gather in my eyes, a lump form in my throat as I walked back towards the woman. She was sitting now, a basket at her feet and a baby in her arms.

"Do you want to see her?" She asked. I nodded and moved closer so she wouldn't have to move. I carried her gently, scared to break her. She looked so much like her mother. She had her hair and nose. She had big grey eyes that would surely turn a deep blue aswell. She was perfect. The tears collecting in my eyes spilled over and I could hear myself sob. The woman got up and rubbed my shoulders, helping me calm down.

After a minute or so I calmed down and thanked the lady. She gave me her name, a miss Julia Ogden, and decided to take her leave. Before she left she gave me one last thing. She said, "Your wife told me that she didn't want her daughter named after her. She made me promise her that". With those final words she left, her green skirt dragging softly on the sidewalk and the sun reflecting off her white cotton shirt. I closed the door softly and walked further into my house. I discarded the meal I had made and sat down on the couch. My daughters eyes bore into mine, so innocent and already so broken. Her little hand grasped my thumb. We had never discussed names. My wife said we would know when we see, but I was always partial to the name Mary. It was my mother's name, a saints name. I hope that the blessed mother will look down on my daughter. I prayed she would.

And so her name was Mary.


	2. Chapter 2

"So constable, who do you think committed the crime?" I asked looking at the two suspects we interigated.

"Well I think that suspect one has a decent alibi, but we should confirm it."

"Good." I said checking my pocket watch. "Well constable Mary, it looks like it's time for supper. We'll let them think over their crimes and solve the case later." I deduced. My daughter quickly gathered the plushies we had "arrested" this morning and ran upstairs to put them away. I smiled after her. She was a splitting image of her mother. The way her tight red curls bounced behind her, her optimistic view on life that paired well with her bright smile. That smile could light up room. She was five now, and at that stage of never ending questions. She only asked about her mother once. She asked if she was a good person. _"Your mother was the best woman I know", _I responded. She nodded and proceeded to tell me about some fascinating thing she read in a book.

I didn't mind raising her by myself. I took time off when I needed too, but being a detective, there's never really a set schedule. When I got calls that needed immediate action, i would phone the midwife down the street, Miss Ogden. She became Mary's "female influence". She taught her how to read and how a girl should dress. Miss Ogden and myself didn't see much point in telling her that she should only wear dresses, knowing they would rip when she played, but society deemed it necessary. They took well to each other. Mary had claimed that every Sunday after church we were to spend the day together, if possible. We both agreed and since then, that's been our routine.

"Dad?" Mary's quiet voice asked behind me. I hadn't realized that I was stating out the window. I probably frightened her.

"Come love, you don't want to eat a cold dinner." I smiled, taking her small hand and walking into the kitchen. Our cook, Samantha, known more commonly as Mrs. Kitchen had prepared a lovely meal for all of us. She stayed at the house full time, and often ran errands for me while I was at work. She was a tall woman, even in bare feet she surpassed me. The old couple that lived here before us had hired her and I kept her on after they passed. She was a black woman, but educated in arithmetic and literature. A rare mix. She helped Mary with her letters and some simple math during the summer and while I was gone and assisted her with homework during school. She isn't a maid or cook. She's family.

"Mary wash up in the sink before you sit." Samantha ordered, placing a piping hot dish on the table.

"Yes Ms. Kitchen!" She yelled, scampering off. I smiled.

"That goes for you too. You should be setting the example." Samantha said to me after Mary was gone. I nodded.

"Yes Ms. Kitchen." I teased. She gave me the good old side eye and went to fetch the rest of the food. I followed after her to wash my hands. I turned on the water and over it, I heard the door knock. Samantha murmured something to herself and went to see who it was. I knew it wasn't the Inspector. He always called if a case came in at dinner time. That meant that it could be any constable from the station. I sighed and turned off the water, drying my hands on the old dish rag. I straightened my tie and made my way to the front door.

"Thank you Samantha." I said, taking over for her while she tended to Mary. "How may I help you?" I asked the woman at the door.

"Wi- Detective," Julia said, her voice faltering to find words, "something terrible has happened."

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Hehe cliffhanger! I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update. Exams have been killer and I don't have and pre written chapters. (Lol fml) Any ways, this chapter to me seems really choppy and weird so please leave me some feedback!️ I promise that the plot will pick up [eventually].

Special shout out to user RuthieGreen! Your feedback has been super helpful!

Stay tuned for more!️

\- Emily


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Anyone remember this fic? Well I've FINALLY got around to figuring out what to do with this and can say that I am actively trying to write the next few chapters. So, um, ya. Big Thanks to anyone who still reads this.**

"Something terrible has happened." She said, wringing her hands in distraught. I nodded and stepped out of the doorway, closing the door softly behind me.

"What happened?" I asked softly. Julia was a well pulled together woman. It took a lot to distress her.

"There's a body, a mangled up young thing in my yard."

"Do you know who it is?"

"No, I've never seen her before in my life," she explained hurriedly. I nodded. Dinner would have to wait.

"Alright. Head inside, and call the station. Samantha will make you a tea. You're welcome to eat with Mary." I said, re opening the door and grabbing my hat and coat.

"The body's right out front. I threw a sheet over her to spare passerbys the fright." She said. I nodded and let myself out. I ran down the street to Julia's house as fast as I could. Sure enough, there was a randomly placed sheet and mound in the middle of her front yard. One might think she was putting in a flower bed. I walked over to it and slowly pulled back the sheet. Sure enough, the girl was dead, a bullet hole right between her eyes. I immediately started analyzing the scene. Based on the powder burns on her face she was shot at close range. The surrounding ground was undisturbed suggesting she was shot on the property.

Damn it. I sighed. Julia would be implicated in this, whether she knew the girl or not. This would be a tough case. I crossed myself which I often did at crime scenes. Old habit I guess. I paced around the rest of the property and when that proved futile, started examining her porch.

As often as I see Julia, I myself have never gone into her house. Hell, even being here on her porch stirs something within me. There's sadness, knowing that this was the last place my wife was seen alive. But now was not the time for reminiscing. I looked under chairs and in flower pots before declaring that the porch was of no further use to the investigation.

As I'm waiting for the constables to arrive, questions come to mind. Who is she? Who shot her? What was her connection to Julia? These thoughts and many more like them circled around and around until the skidding of bicycle wheels and clatter of hooves told me the constabulary was here for the body. The coroner, Dr. Emily Grace hopped off the back of the wagon and gave me a slight nod as she knelt beside the body.

I watched as constable Crabtree walked over with Higgins and two new chaps behind him.

"George."

"Sir."

"I've examined the porch and most of the front lawn. So far no sign of a murder weapon or means of identifaction." I shifted so that I could address the rest of the group. "I want two men on either side of the house. Check garbage, hedges, I don't care. After, one constable will report back to me while the rest of you will start asking the rest of the neighbors." The four constables nodded. Then I suddenly remembered a very important detail. "Oh George, a moment," I waited until he returned to continue, "Could you quickly run by my house and ask after a Miss Ogden?" Though the constable looked confused, he nodded and was off with a quick "sir". I stared after him for a moment, and content that he would find his way, knelt beside Dr. Grace and awaited her initial findings.

"Well detective, I can't tell you much beyond the obvious," she started, pulling the sheet further down her body, "but I can say with certainty that she was shot between noon and one pm this afternoon."

"Is there any indication that she was moved?"

"Yes in fact there is," she tilted the lifeless head to the side, exposing dark curls caked in blood.

"An exit wound?" I asked. She nodded and placed the head back on the ground. I still don't know how she stomachs that. "But there were no tracks in the grass, or blood trails." She shrugged. "Have you anything else for me, doctor?"

"Yes," she lifted the girls left hand, "she was either engaged or married."

I nodded and said my thanks. Not even one day into investigating and already this was proving to be a tough case. The worst thing was that my own neighbors were under suspicion.

I watched as they loaded her body into the back of the station wagon, my thoughts interrupted by Higgins announcing they had found something.

I followed the constable to the side of the house and watched as one of the younger lads pulled a handbag out of the bushes.

"Do you think it belonged to the dead girl?" constable Higgins asked. I gave him a small glare and started opening the bag. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in his head. Inside was a business card and an empty tin. I read the card aloud so the two men could hear me. "Miss Violet Acker, seamstress. Well boys, I think we have a name for our victim," I said, returning the card to it's spot. I left the men to do a final sweep and walked around front to see if Crabtree had found Julia. Sure enough, they were walking towards the house. As they got closer, I could tell that Julia was still quite shaken, her face still pale and her eyes wide at the blood stain on her lawn. I met them at the side walk to avoid having her come any closer.

"I'm sorry to bring you back here, but we do need to ask you some questions." She nodded. I decided to start off with the simple questions, not wanting to stress her out too much, allowing Crabtree to stay and take notes. "Where were you between noon and one pm?"

"Outside hanging laundry, then inside preparing things for Rachel. She's just about ready to have her baby."

I tilted my head in curiosity. Her midwifery practice never ceased to puzzle me. Figuring I would hear of it later, I proceeded with the questions.

"Did you know the victim? Her name was Violet Acker."

"No Detective, I can't say I do."

"One last question, if I may. Did you happen to hear anything strange or out of the ordinary from the time the victim was shot to her discovery this evening?"

She shook her head, some of her looser hairs dancing around her face. "I don't recall hearing anything, but as I went out to tend the herbs out front, I noticed a carriage pulling away. I didn't think much of it, thinking perhaps someone was heading off to a party or some such."

"And what time did you go out to tend the herbs?"

"Shortly before I went to fetch you, say no later than ten to seven."

I looked at Crabtree and nodded, corroborating her story.

It was dark by the time we called it a day at the Ogden house. The constables had left and it was just me and Julia sitting on her porch, having a quick cup of tea. The moon was out, just barely visible behind the clouds

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help William," she said, taking a sip of her tea.

"Julia you helped plenty." I said, turning to face her.

"I know. But it doesn't feel like I did enough."

Figuring that she didn't want to talk about it further, I decided to ask about Rachel. She lived in the house beside mine. Good people, kind and willing to help with Mary from time to time. I figured that talking about her work would be better than talking about mine.

"So, Rachels due soon?" I asked politly.

She gave a little nod and set her cup down. "She's ready alright. You see -" she tilted her head at the sky, "- thunderstorm. It's good luck. If we wait any longer, it'll put them both at risk."

"Really?"

"Mhm. I spent most of the day preparing herbs for her and her baby. Primrose oil is hard to make and hard to come by." she ranted. She seemed comfortable talking about the various herbs and remedies used to induce labour, so let her rant on about the use of basil in teas, and how fennel when boiled with barley helps the milk come in. We talked for a while, until the storm started, forcing me to head home.

"I should head back now," I said quietly.

"Ah, yes. Mary'll be upset that you missed supper and bedtime if you don't hurry," she joked. I smiled. She really was quite beautiful, her hair falling in careless curls around her face, her eyes always bright. Perhaps it was the moon playing tricks on him.

"Goodnight Julia."

"Goodnight William."

And with that, I took my leave. I pray Mary didn't wait up past her bedtime.

**Please note that the herbs I've listed may not be accurate in any way. I collected information from The Birth House by Ami McKay, which is claimed to be historically accurate. Also, it's a very good read if you like that sort of thing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! So here is another chapter. Just a lil bit of fluff. I promise I'm working on it. Enjoy!**

* * *

_It was dark out. I could barely see five feet ahead. _

_Then, a light, blinds me. It's warm, comforting, familiar. I close my eyes and bask in its rays. I'm smiling. There's a smell in the air, again something I can't quite place. _

_I open my eyes, and the rays are gone and there is a silhouette of a woman. Sh- She's calling my name. I get closer and it's her, but she's different. I reach out and grab a strand of her hair. Her once auburn hair is now blond. Her face appears different to me than I remember. Then it hits me. _

_It's not my wife, but Julia._

_xxx_

My alarm goes off and any dream I was once having, vanishes before my eyes. I sit up and turn the machine off, before it wakes Mary down the hall. I try to piece together the faint recollections of the dream. What did it mean? Surely it meant something. I head to the washroom to freshen up, hoping to wash away the last of memory. Whatever the meaning was, it surely wouldn't help with a murder investigation.

The patter of little feet on the ground told me that Mary was up and ready for the day. I quickly did up the last few buttons on my shirt, knowing that she would soon enter. Sure enough, the door creaked open and in a flurry of red hair Mary ran into the room. I scooped her up and held her close, giving her little kisses all over her face. She laughed at the attention, her head thrown back. It was these times that she reminded him of her mother. She was still in her nightgown and was probably waiting for me to come and choose her outfit for the day.

"And how did my little mouse sleep last night?" I asked, smoothing down the front of her gown, and kissing her head once more.

"I'm not a mouse! Imma cat!" she retorted, giving me her best angry cat impression. I feigned fear and set her down softly on the bed.

"A cat you say? Well then Miss kitty you better go brush your teeth before the dog chases you," I said, and swooped in to tickle her tummy. She shrieked and ran off to the bathroom, accidentally slamming the door in her wake. I smiled and set about picking which of my ties to wear. No matter how grim the case was, she always brightened his day.

I made my way into Mary's room and set about selecting which of the many dresses she should wear. It was windy out, the trees across the street blowing madly. Using this information, I chose a rather warm looking dress and laid it out on the bed. Mary walked in shortly after and, taking one look at the dress I selected, decided to look for a dress herself.

"Why don't you like that one?" I asked. It was a pretty dress by all standards.

She shrugged. "It's itchy."

"But it'll keep you warm."

"But it's itchy!"

I sighed. She wasn't going to get into that dress easily today. I tried to think of a way to get it on her when Mary suddenly piped up.

"Why can't Miss Ogden pick a dress?" she asked. I was a little taken aback. Sometimes on Sundays, Julia comes by a little early and helps me with Mary. They had a strong bond, Julia doting on the child and Mary looking up to her as a "motherly figure". Still, whenever she asked for Julia it pulled at me a bit. Perhaps it was my pride, or my ego or my fear of not being a good enough father. Perhaps it was a combination of the three.

"Because angel," I started, picking her up and seating her at the edge of the bed. "Miss Ogden is helping Rachel with her baby." That got her attention.

"Rachel's baby? I've never seen a baby in her house."

I lifted the night gown over her head. "Well, you notice how Rachel has a really big tummy?" she nods. Now to explain it accurately enough so that she believes it. "Well next time you see her, her tummy will be flat and there will be a baby." I slipped the dress over her head. Success! Now for her socks.

"Where did it come from?" Shite. Keeping my voice steady I continued talking while she subconsciously slipped her feet into socks.

"I told you sweetie, from her tummy."

"But how does it get there?" I paused for a moment and decided that she was dressed enough to stop the conversation. I kissed her head.

"I'll tell you another time, love." She nodded. "Now go pick a ribbon for your hair." She ran to the other side of the room and grabbed a black ribbon off her desk. Julia had got her that one. We each took a seat on the bed, behind her. I took the brush off the nightstand and gently ran it through her curls. I settled for a simple half up, half down style, letting her curls bounce freely when she moved. When I was done she ran to the mirror and, deciding it was good, ran back and kissed my cheek before bolting downstairs for breakfast. I smiled to myself. She never ceased to make me smile.


End file.
